I write these words with a heart burdened by grief, my trembling hands weighed down by the pain of loss. I’m facing the devastating reality that my friends, Razan Mohammed Barhoum and Deema Ashour, are no longer among us. Loss is not just about absence; it is an overwhelming void that consumes every corner of the soul.

Today, I am writing to tell their stories and shed light on the harsh truth of life in Gaza, where each martyr loses their identity and is reduced to a mere statistic.

Razan Mohammed Barhoum

Razan Mohammed Barhoum, 24, was more than just a friend; she was a shining example of kindness, perseverance, and faith. I met Razan during medical school at Al-Azhar University, where we quickly bonded over our shared classes and clinical training group. She was known for her impeccable manners, radiant smile, and dedication as a memorizer of the Holy Qur’an.

In our final year of medical school, Razan got married, a milestone that didn’t hinder her passion for her career. She remained committed to her studies, attending regularly and excelling in her coursework with remarkable grades. Her determination was inspiring to everyone around her.

When the war broke out, communication between us was severed. Razan stayed in her home in Rafah, carrying a precious hope — she was in the early months of pregnancy after a long struggle.

Then, on the morning of March 25, 2024, in the middle of Ramadan, reality hit me in the cruelest way. Around 1 a.m., during my shift as a volunteer doctor at Al-Kuwaiti Hospital in southern Gaza, bodies of martyrs were brought to the hospital. They had been the victims of relentless bombardment. Among them was Razan — my friend, my classmate, my sister in spirit. She had been killed in her sleep, alongside others in her family, including her husband Omar Barhoun and their unborn child.

I will never forget the moment I wrapped her body in a shroud with my own hands, tears streaming down my face as I wrote her name on the cloth. She wasn’t just a friend; she was an example of grace and resilience, someone who balanced her duties as a wife, a student, and a soon-to-be mother with extraordinary strength.

The morgue was filled with dozens of martyrs, placed in a special tent awaiting burial. As I said my final goodbye to Razan, I couldn’t reconcile that this was the last time I would see her. I had grown used to checking in on her, sharing updates about our lives, and seeking her advice. I was not prepared for the day when I would see her as a martyr, wrapped in eternal silence.

May Razan’s soul rest in peace, and may her legacy of resilience inspire us.

Deema Ashour

In the realm of medicine, which carries profound humanitarian significance, Deema Ashour was a brilliant Palestinian doctor who stood as a shining example of selflessness and devotion. I used to work with her at the hospital, where she was my teacher before the war.

Born and raised in Gaza, Deema grew up in a community plagued by siege and deprivation. She attended the Faculty of Medicine at Al-Azhar University, where she was known for her intelligence and academic excellence, and also her generosity and humility. She inspired everyone not only with her academic achievements but also with her humanitarian spirit. She was particularly admired for her meticulous summaries of medical lectures, which she shared with classmates to make their studies easier. Graduating at the top of her class with honors, she went on to work as a teaching assistant in the medical school for a year.

Deema dedicated herself to serving her people. She volunteered at Kamal Adwan Hospital in northern Gaza during the war, providing medical care to patients and the injured. Deema was married to her colleague, Dr. Mohammed Jamal Shabat, who shared her humanitarian spirit and commitment to serving their homeland. Despite the violent conditions, the couple decided to stay in northern Gaza, specifically in Beit Hanoun, refusing to evacuate south. They believed in the importance of standing by their community in its most desperate times.

Throughout the war, Deema and her husband continued to provide medical care at Kamal Adwan Hospital, working tirelessly to ease the suffering of the wounded.

Tragically, their service did not shield them from indiscriminate shelling. On November 12, 2024, Deema, her husband, and their baby girl, Ayla Mohammed Shabat, who was not yet 2 years old, were martyred in a horrific attack. Miraculously, their 4-year-old son, Jamal Mohammed Shabat, survived despite multiple injuries, becoming the sole survivor of the massacre.

Their home in Beit Hanoun was targeted, killing over 20 members of the Shabat family. In addition to Deema, her husband, and her daughter, the bombing killed: Abeer Jamal Shabat and her sister Aseel, Areej Jamal Shabat (wife of the prisoner Mohamed Ahmed el Basyoni) and their children Ahmed, Zien and Lama, Sa’eda Ali Mohammed, Reem Moner Shabat, and her sister Ghana.

May Allah grant mercy to Deema Ashour and her family, and may they be among the righteous martyrs.